Child of Mine
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: "She will never know his ache. But she thinks she may have some notion, as the sharp pain in her breast cannot be so far off. Frigga has lost one son only to gain another." A snapshot of a child's growth and a mother's enduring love. From pre-Thor to post-Avengers.One shot.


**Child of Mine **

**DISCLAIMER: Avengers/Thor isn't mine, sadly enough. One day…..**

**I wrote this partially to outline for myself Loki's childhood. One of my readers, K.L., suggested a little more backstory on himThis can be paired (maybe) with my Loki/OC piece…to later chapters…maybe? I guess it's my take on the backstory to Loki's heritage, childhood, etc. If you're no opposed to OC pieces, check it. God of Pain. If you're interest.**

**For my God of Pain readers, parts of this will figure in later chapters. Think 27-30. **

-**XXX-**

She will never know his ache. But she thinks she may have some notion, as the sharp pain in her breast cannot be so far off.

Frigga has lost one son only to gain another.

She would much rather have them both.

The bridge fallen, and Loki with it, she doesn't know if she would prefer if he were dead or merely "gone." There were stories of the space beyond spaces, how they might damage one's mind. With her youngest already vulnerable, Frigga wonders if he could hold his mind. Then she realizes she doesn't care, for a living son would be worth a hundred thousand dead ones.

**-XXX-**

The day Odin placed the ragged bundle in her arms, she knew not what she was looking at. The queen did not see a prince, Jotun or Asgardian, but a weeping child, skin as creamy as her own. Her husband, now deformed by his battles, placed a hand on the chubby leg of the babe, and she saw slate-coloured skin. She nearly dropped him then. Wide, bloody eyes opened through tears. With another touch, Odin brought back the warm flesh of their people.

"Magic," he whispered. The king had come in the middle of the night, waking an already fretful Frigga from her uneasy slumber. "He will be a sorcerer of immense power."

"What shall we do with him, Odin?" she whispered back. The child had calmed considerably when she took to cradling him properly. "Why did you take him?"

"Laufey's son," the king said, sitting back. "He is…weak, for a Frost Giant."

The babe caught Frigga's finger, and pulled it to him, stuffing the tips in his small mouth. She watches, engrossed in his green-grey eyes. Down black hair covers his small skull. She has not held a baby since Thor, who, now three, is no longer an infant in want of cuddles. _"And this one is in such need of love…."_

Her first question had not been answered. The queen glanced up. "What shall we do with this little one, Husband?"

Hesitation rules her husband's features before he answers. "I would see him raised as our own. Thor…would be pleased with a brother, I should think."

"Yes." She spoke softly, careful not to disturb the child. His tiny limbs were curled to him, eyes wide.

_"And I would very much like another son." _

"What will he be called?" Frigga cannot look away from those liquid jade eyes. Small fists strain upwards, then tiny fingers. In want of her. She brings the babe to her breast, where he nestles as though he were born to fit there.

"Loki."

The name is repeated. "Loki Odinson."

A second surname goes unmentioned, though it hangs in the air every time the other name is spoken aloud. In her heart and her head, it shall not leave her. _"Laufeyson….Laufeyson…."_

She blesses the day and the child every morn of her life.

**-XXX-**

Babe to toddler. Even on wobbly legs, Loki sought to follow Thor everywhere. He bawled mercilessly when the nurses thought to part them. It drove the nannies to madness. Even little Thor was frustrated.

"You must let me go, brother," he would scold in his high-pitched child's voice, peering over the bars of his sibling's crib. Frigga, waiting in the corner with a storybook, smiled.

He tugged on her jewels, her thick golden braids, kicked his small, plump legs. She was secretly pleased to find that he was not such a climber as Thor- - who had been a right nightmare at the age of two - - -and content to sit in her lap quietly as she read poetry, told stories, or simply rocked him. The nurse would pass, smiling at the sweet child as he rested, dark waves fluffed on his small skull, eyelids drooping unwillingly with want of sleep.

It was all too easy to fall for the child.

**-XXX-**

He grew to be a lively boy, though less physically inclined than his elder brother. Still, Loki did everything in his power to keep up with the brash Thor. They ran the staff crazy. Odin found their antics amusing, always, and Frigga had no doubt by the time her youngest was nine that he himself was not perhaps the devious little snip behind most of the boy's schemes. At least, the more elaborate ones. Yet, it seemed as though Thor took the blame without question. Mischief might very well be his middle name.

Oh, her son was a smart one. As bright as his brother was strong. One of the warriors of the court took to calling him Silvertongue, and the name stuck. He was never without sharp words.

**-XXX-**

The power Odin predicted manifested itself in Loki's twelfth year. At first, the sparks emitted unconsciously from the boy's fingertips whilst at the dinner table, or the occasion of Thor's long locks transforming to a putrid shade of lavender (Frigga suspected jealous arising in that case, though perhaps the spell was accidental), scared the boy. But in no time he took to his talents, becoming an accomplished sorcerer on his own study.

Few with magical ability resided in their realm, and those that did simply could not adequately teach the boy. As one greenwitch explained it, "Madam, he is simply beyond me."

The day came when Frigga would fear her son's ability. But not while he was making butterflies out of flower petals and turning rocks to chocolates.

**-XXX-**

The differences between Loki and Thor became nearly painful to see as they grew closer and closer to manhood. While Loki was skilled with sword and horses, he was far more comfortable around books and magic, conversation and philosophy. The Asgardians shunned these scholarly pursuits almost entirely. The scholars and philosophers of the land were practically hermits - - -something did she did not want for her younger son. Odin's people loved sport and war and little else. Thor embodied these things.

Loki would never be a warrior. For his mother, it was a struggle she saw him endure every day in his teens. The realization was a long time coming to the boy. As always, he simply wanted to be with Thor, to please their father.

Odin was a generous father. He openly loved his sons, and bore them with affection in court. Though a stern man, he was tender with them as children, then playfully gruff as they grew to be young men. Thor would always be his heir- - - -that would never change. But, Frigga wished that he might grant Loki some title or region to rule on his own.

To be a prince always would be a hard task. They had not considered this when taking the boy in.

**-XXX-**

From a young age, dreams of a land locked in ice and snow often claimed Loki Odinson's nights. He had visions of tall, red-eyed monsters that called for him, clung to his princely figure, and cried out in a language he could not understand.

Out of his dreamings he would toss and turn. Cold consumed his form, and little could wake the boy from these traps of horror. Even when he was a young man, Frigga might walk past in door in the midst of the night to find him moaning, his own mind held captive by frost. She would scurry to wake him, reassuring with warm drink and gentle words. Holding her shivering boy to her, as she did when he was a mite, Frigga prayed for peace on his mind. She smoothed back the dark curtain of hair that would slip to cover his eyes, and look deep into his green gaze-not so unlike hers, not so different from any Asgardian.

She could sometimes believe he was not but one of them. That he was truly hers. That there wasn't another mother out there, possibly missing her boy.

As always, his question remained: _"Why?"_

_ "Laufeyson, Laufeyson," _her cruel mind whispered, ever a reminder.

"I do not know."

**-XXX-**

A brooding young man. Her youngest prince is as dark and pale as his brother is fair and bronzed. Loki cannot stand the sun, and while he will still skirmish occasionally, he more often than not retreats to his private study in his apartments. He has resigned himself to the scholarly life- - - for now.

She sees his frustration, nevertheless.

After a particularly rough feat, in which Thor is toasted, fawned over by ladies and warriors alike, whilst the sole fair maiden who had shown interest in Loki was brushed off by the younger prince's anger, Frigga observed the growing strain on Loki's pale brow. He left early, clock sweeping behind him. He used his powers- - - which he rarely displays before court- - - to vanish. Frigga stood instantly to follow. Odin, seated beside her, merry with drink, claimed his wife's hand.

With a single look, she warned her husband off. And then she went to find Loki.

What she ended up finding first was destruction. The family's private gardens where in utter ruin. Piece of the fountain littered the mosaic walkways. Rose's fat heads were snap. Petals were scattered throughout the soil. Blossoms were utterly destroyed. Benches cracked, snapped at their center. The statues that lined the walks had been crumbled by singular blasts of energy. Frigga lifted her skirts and ran.

He was in the center. Hands spread wide, he fired away at brushes and flowers, freezing some, burning others, wrecking everything in sight. She stopped before the vine archway that lead to the pavilion.

"Loki?"

A scream tore from his throat as he clenched his fist. The ice melted, and flame flickered down. He whipped around to face his mother. He had not cried, but tears welled in his bright eyes.

"_Oh, Loki."_

Without thought, she moved forward to gather the sinking young man into her arms. He doesn't cry, but his shoulders shake violently.

"_I forget sometimes just how young he really is…of course he's envious…." _She stroked the silken strands of his dark hair. He cringed into her.

"I just - -I just want-" he stuttered.

"What?" She soothed, voice low. "What, darling?"

He heaved one last shudder."Why?"

"I do not know, my love." She cups his face. "But one day…one day, my love, they will _see _you and know that you are their prince. Thor is young, he is not yet king. Once he takes himself a little more seriously, all the feasts in the world will not tempt him. He is intense. You will have your time in the sun."

He doesn't believe her. But for the moment, he lets her comfort her brooding, dark boy.

**-XXX-**

Then comes the day when Thor is thrown from their world. And, after that day, a time when he would have been king.

Though she may love her younger son, even Frigga must admit that the idea of Thor on the throne reassures her more the tumultuous storm that was Loki. She says nothing, however, merely stays by her husband's side. Odinsleep would do him good…if he woke, that is. But she cannot stay there forever. Functions must be held, the household attended to. Loki comes, humbly even in his crown, to request her audience at his coronation. She can only say yes.

**-XXX-**

At some point, she retired to the Pavilion of Secrets, a vast chamber of pillars and stone apart from the general palace. Odin courted her there, and she would see Thor someday take his bride here as well, and then Loki. It was a beautiful place, though rarely used, good for the occasion of wooing. Plenty of concealed corners, covert little spaces. Both of her boys would be thinking of taking brides, soon. Frigga made a note to have the grand pavilion aired out, and cleaned until the stones gleamed as they did when she was a young blushing thing. She wandered the maze of sculpted stone. And then she happens upon Loki.

He was morose. Circles under his normally bright eyes, jaw locked and tight. Figga paused in her walk to view him, titling her head. Of course the stress of new-found leadership must be wearing on him, but he appeared angrier than anything. She approached on light limbs. "Loki?"

That was when he told her. Eyes accusing, spoke the truth of his heritage. And she felt her heart overtaken by an icy cold.

"Why?" he spat viciously. "Why keep me? Was it entertaining? Penance? For what cause?"

Betrayal marked his every vowel, and it was all Frigga can do to close her eyes and breathe. _"Oh, Loki." _Even as king, he was insecure. Always to be compared with Thor. No matter what, he would forever live in his brother's shadow, for it was stained into his mind, a disease of uncertainty.

"Because you were an innocent babe," she told him. "And someone cold left you to die. And because from the second I saw you, I knew I never wanted to see a babe so sad again. I loved you, without reason, Loki, for that is what love is."

He sneered.

But she was still his mother, so Frigga reproached. "I have loved you as I loved your brother, and your brother as I have loved you. You are both my boys. You have both made me so proud…and so hurt."

He knew she thought of Thor, and shifted unhappily at the thought of his blundering brother. "You could not tell me? Not tell me of my origins, or any of it? That I was not your son?"

"I bore you not from myself, yet you shall always be my son, Loki Odinson. Come away from this dark place that creeps into your mind." She gestured, arms open.

"And what of father's plan?" he drew back, still unwilling for contact. "His desire for me to…to rule the Frost Giants. I don't want to be…them."

Frigga frowned. "Plan?"

When he told her, she recoiled. Her husband had said it many times. Of course…both would be kings, in their own right. But not of Asgard.

**-XXX-**

He was lost to her.

The agony Frigga felt was unimaginable. She had thought on Thor's banishment that her heart would break, but this was so much _worse. _Her very _soul_ was splitting. They knew not Loki's fate; knew not whether he lived, or died, or suffered. All of her ached in misery at her babe's demise.

The worst was to know that he willingly choose to fall. To let go. To sink into…nothingness.

_"What might I have done to prevent this?" _she cried to herself internally. And, if the expressions on her husband and son's faces were any indication, they asked themselves the very same question. _"What could I have done? What made him so miserable?"_

Life moved on. The kingdom moved on. But pieces of Frigga's heart would never let go.

**-XXX-**

He came back to her a caged animal. Darker and angrier, rage dripping from every limb. Bruised eyes stared out from his iron box. Hollow. Pits of hate.

He loathed them all.

She knew not what to do- - - what to say.

The barrier of energy that separated them was her biggest challenge. Oh, how the queen wished to take her boy into her arms, whisper the things that would calm his violent dreaming as a child. Perhaps, then, all this might be a dream…nothingness, a bump in the road. But it was not to be. Even Odin said he was too dangerous, and would have to endure his punishment until he could be proven tamed.

Not easy for a trickster god.

She came every day. He never spoke-the mask would not allow it. _"Silvertongue no more," _she realized sadly.

Frigga told stories, news, or held one-sided conversations. Sometimes they sat in silence whilst she read, or sewed, or simply rested. The news of Thor's banishment, then Loki's presumed death had sent her into a spiral of bad health. Her heart was irrevocably damaged. And the return of her youngest did little to help. But still she came.

Some days, her mere voice seemed to agitate him. He paced like a confined wolf, a fenced in beast, eyes vividly coloured with impatient and hate. His skin would flicker between blue-grey and cream, eyes sanguine then green-grey. Loki knew it bothered her greatly to see him in his Jotun state. He hit the energy field with his fist, shocking her and any others in the room.

Other times, the gaze was murky, his body lethargic. He had no interest in her, and stared into the distance. Defeated.

Healers were called. But none knew the problem, or could find any diagnosis. One gave the simply suggestion of depression. Another said he would pull himself out of it when he felt ready. Frigga kept visiting.

The hardest thing was the realization that he was not happy. He did not wish to be here with them, box or not. He wanted to be _gone. _Away from Asgard. Out of the shade from Thor's great tree. And then on to his own life.

She so badly wanted to help him.

Sometimes she could practically hear his voice in her head. _"I want your help not, _Mother. _Leave me to rot in my wretchedness. I suffer greatest in _your _presence. Your posing of grief and distress is tiring to me."_

Frigga never told Odin of these horrid words. He would not be able to stand it without rage. So, her sorrow simply grew. It was a disease, as Loki's hate was a disease, black and livid and all too willing to grow. She did not wish to let it overtake her.

And she loved her son.

She would always love her son.

Always.

Nothing and no one could suggest otherwise.

The man in the cage, the injured creature in the silver mask that paced and glared, was not her beautiful boy. It wasn't the small, pitiful creature she fell in love with after first holding him. Not the excitable child who followed his brother around, teased mercilessly, and was named Silvertongue by the court. No, this person wasn't hers.

Not anymore.

**-XXX-**

**I got the vibe in the movies that Frigga didn't quite know the whole story with what was goin' on with Loki's schemes. I felt for her a lot...both kids, pushed off of the rainbow-ice bridge...tough luck.**

**This will figure in a bit to the last chapters of God of Pain. Hope you've enjoyed this snapshot, please review! Feedback is appreciated!**

**~Dania**


End file.
